I still stared at my bedroom door, picturing Story’s confused, hurt face. She’d only agreed to this for Woodsy. Somehow that was so much worse than if she’d just wanted to use me for money.

In no way, shape, or form had she ever wanted to be involved.

Fuck.

Before I’d felt like slime; now I was slime.

I fell back onto my couch, head in my hands. Woodsy’s cancer was back. We barely beat it the last time, and the stubborn old man refused to let me pay for any of it. Fuck that. Not this time.

How bad was it?

I needed to call the hospital, call the doctors like last time. Get him the best—

Lottie entwined her hand with mine. When had she sat beside me?

“It’s really sweet how you help your servants,” she said.

Servant.

I really fucking hate that word.

“I was a little scared when I saw her in your room…but now I see she was just cleaning.”

Just cleaning. She wasn’t just cleaning—she fucking belonged here. In my bed. In my veins.

I didn’t like leaving her, letting her go to deal with her uncle on her own. She was afraid, and I wanted to be there.

I glanced at the hand in mine, itchy inside my skin, itchy in my blood.

“I’m sorry for just showing up. I really wanted to continue what we started last night. I guess I snuck in.”

Lottie wove her hands in my hair, dragging me for a kiss. Soft kisses. Teasing kisses. Gentle kisses that weren’t bad but weren’t fucking Story.

Why couldn’t I let her go? So many mistakes at every turn…bringing her to my wing.

Letting her stay.

The deal.

The contract.

Lies I’d said were to get the girl I finally had in my arms, against my lips, but were really to keep Story around.

Lottie trailed a hand down my chest, to the outside of my pants, rubbing my cock. Biology had me hard. It felt good, and Lottie’s soft kisses didn’t feel bad.

Do it. Fucking do it. Get it over with. Lose the thing that’s become like a damn anchor. I’ve given it too much control, given them too much control, and Grandpa always said you don’t give control without losing power. So just fucking do it with the girl who is supposed to be my soul mate.

I tore Lottie’s hands off, standing off the couch, putting distance between us.

“I…fuck. I can’t. Lottie, I can’t do this to you.”

What the ever-loving fuck is WRONG WITH ME?

Why can’t I just do it?

I’m everything my grandfather says I am.

A pussy.

A fucking coward.

Lottie chewed her full, glossy lip. “It’s because of her, right? The servant?”